I demand better quality trash

Who cares one iota if one of the more inane celebrities, already well on the way to the boringly predictable stay at the Betty Ford clinic, does the oh-so-trashy Vegas wedding gig? Last I heard (and I really wish I hadn't), she was "taking a break".

In an age in which even Homer Simpson can see the spin doctors at work, are we really supposed to follow this tragic, attention-grabbing drivel with any kind of genuine interest? Frankly, it would be more interesting if she married a cat. Strike that - frankly, the cat would be more interesting.

Where are the sensational articles about the slightly-bevvied-but-friendly "heated" after-dinner conversations at Gore Vidal's place in Tuscany, when Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins dropped in for a barbie? (I think Noam Chomsky popped in quite late for the sealer.) If we're going to have trash, why can't it be the kind of trash that thinking adults are interested in? Must it all be aimed at 15-year-old girls? Religion, politics, solving the world's problems after a few red wines - that's the stuff we really want to hear about.

I demand better quality trash! This, of course, requires better quality celebrities (who obviously wouldn't lower themselves, etcetera), which makes it a somewhat self-defeating argument, I know: but surely I'm not the only one who craves a more interesting class of celeb and a bit of genuine, stimulating controversy? (Incidentally, my thanks to Princess Anne and her canine companions, and my condolences to HRH - they absolutely made my Christmas. Tragic, yes - remember it's the nervous noughties and we're all duty-bound to preface our statements with a politically correct disclaimer - but that aside, how fabulously amusing was that!)

Imagine plopping Kofi Annan and Peter Jackson on the twin Jason recliners, and enjoying a bit of slurred banter about the international similarities to be drawn between current global issues and the strife of Middle Earth. What about seating Henry Rollins opposite the head of the KKK? Not advocating violence of course, but the verbal lashing would be beautiful to behold.

If we're going to be besotted by sensationalist trash can we at least make it useful? How about Cicciolina and Germaine Greer having a natter after some tapas, discussing the finer points of baring one's breasts to make a political point (no pun intended)? Personally, I think Cicciolina's offering of herself to sexually gratify one Mr S. Hussein some eight or so years ago could have saved us all a lot of heartache. Not to mention lives. And it would have been eminently more watchable than a Pamela Anderson/Tommy liaison, or the pitiful Paris Hilton with whoever.

I would be extremely gratified if the useless tidbits that seem to preoccupy us, the masses, had at least a modicum of substance. In short, I'd simply like my trash to have some fibre. However, I'll probably have more luck if I start eating cheap editions of Dickens.

Readers are invited to apply wit to anything that makes the blood boil. Send 550 words, with contact details, to heckler@smh.com.au. Submissions may be edited and published on the internet.